Hell Breaks Loose
by Jin Yaranda
Summary: Finally, away from the Umbrella Corp., Claire, Chris, and Leon fly off on vacation...though, they weren't expecting... (read and review, please! Chap. 8 up!)
1. All Over Again

Prologue  
  
Mary had been working in the lab, having a normal workday. All the men ogled her, so she hated going every day. But, she admitted to herself, they had good reason. She was pure beauty, plain and simple. She was the only half-civilized girl in Nevada, anyway. Her auburn hair was tied in a ponytail, and fell down to her upper back. Her eyes were a piercing blue, icy, even. Her face was perfectly formed, dimples slight, but existent. She had two earrings, both pure gold, but a very simple design. Her nose was perfect size, too, with no irregularities.  
All of these features were shot to hell as fast as she got to work. A spill had occurred, and all of the employees had been turned to mindless zombies. But, that's not what worried her. One of the Tyrants had gotten out of stasis, and was rampaging throughout the facility. She didn't know exactly where she was going, but she ran as soon as she heard the alarms. The rumbles of random flame-induced explosions shook the foundation of the building, making Mary very nervous.  
It was one of these explosions that blocked her way out. She was running through the halls, plaster falling from the ceiling, and saw the door. A huge explosion occurred, and the walls collapsed, blocking the doorway completely. She banged against the rubble for a minute, but then heard that inhuman screech, and ran as fast as she could, knowing that she couldn't outrun a Hunter, but that she might be able to hide from it.  
She had run into a safehouse on the other side of the facility, which was half-destroyed. There was the name of the company on the side, but it was rubbed off, some even burned off by the fires that raged throughout the area. It was surprising that nobody within twenty miles hadn't heard explosions.until she remembered about the mine, about two miles uphill. They all probably thought it was that stupid mine!  
Idiots, don't know anything about anything. She was bitter at the moment, and had good reason to be. She saw a Tyrant right outside the safehouse window, and gasped. There was a .357 on the table, so she picked it up, heavy in her hands, and aimed at the mindless, once controllable creature. The creature she had created.the one that was better than all of the other Tyrants. Nothing would stop it, but she had to distract it somehow. The hammer edged back when she put pressure on the trigger, and slowly, it came the whole way back, before snapping forward again.  
The shot was deafening, so loud that Mary couldn't hear a thing. She stood for a second, until her hearing returned somewhat, only to hear the high-pitched wail of a Hunter on the other side of the facility. The Tyrant turned toward her, and broke through the bulletproof glass as easy as it were thin ice. It was beautiful; in it's own way. The head had been converted to look like a shield, made of metal, even though it was still organic flesh. The arms had been reinforced, the blades on it's right arm spreadable. The mace on it's left had been enlarged, and the arm made stronger to support it. The body's muscles had been deteriorating when they found it in the ocean, so Mary had come up with a new virus, one she kept to herself, the U-Virus. The U-Virus took the effects of the T-Virus, and made the decomposition of the flesh stop, and added more muscle tone to the dying body.  
The Tyrant became angered, and lurched forward. She shot again, the pistol bucking wildly in her inexperienced hands. The bullet ripped through the air, and made a whizzing sound as it did so. When bullet met flesh, the bullet lost, just bouncing off of the monster's chest. It roared, not in pain, but in pure fury. Even though she was about to die, Mary had to admire the beauty in the work, the work she had done. It raised its right arm, and slashed down, engulfing Mary in a world of pain.  
  
Chapter One  
  
"No! Steve!"  
He flew quickly across the ice, grabbing at the icy platform, trying to gain a grip, until there was no platform left.  
Claire jacked a round into the gun, and appraised the situation with a clear eye. She took aim, first at the mass on its chest, then the head. She didn't know about the mass at its heart, but she knew nothing could survive a round to the head from a 30.06. Killing this thing would be a mercy, but that wasn't on her mind right now. This thing had been human once, but that didn't figure into her calculations, either. All she knew was, it killed Steve, and so she was going to kill it.  
"Claire?"  
Claire Redfield bolted up in her seat, sweating, nervous, and unsure of where she was. She looked around, and remembered that she was on a plane, finally heading off in a vehicle, not to escape Umbrella, but on a vacation. She deserved it, at least. After what happened at Rockfort and the Antarctic, she had needed something to calm her nerves, to restore her emotions. And meeting up with Chris, her brother, and Leon, her best friend, had been a lifesaver. After Chris had flown out of the facility at the South Pole, he sped them straight to Paris, where they met up with Leon.  
"Hey, Leon, where's everyone else?"  
"They all left as soon as they regrouped. Heard something about another facility in the U.S., and they thought they should just check it."  
"Oh," Chris blurted nonchalantly. Smooth. He knew that he should have said something like, 'get them back here right now!' but he wasn't that good at that kind of stuff.  
Claire looked around the plane, searching for the familiar voice that had just woken her up. She looked to her left, and saw him. Leon Kennedy. He had been the boy she met up with in Raccoon, the one that had near saved her life, and the greatest and most understanding person she had met, besides Chris. She didn't have as much of a bond between them as she and Steve had, but, still, best friends nonetheless. When buying the tickets, Claire had made absolutely sure that Chris, Leon, and she would be together, so as not to lose a single one of them.  
The touch of the young man had comforted her, and he looked worried. Probably because I'm sweating or whatever. Leon took out a cloth, and wiped it across her forehead. "Are you alright, Claire? You seem scared."  
"No, Leon, I'm fine, I promise. Just bad dreams, that's all." She had been dreaming of Steve for a week now, ever since Rockfort/Antarctica. He had risked his life for her, and had been rewarded by being turned into a monster by that bitch Alexia Ashford. He, it was going to kill her, the Steve-monster, until . . . it was like he remembered something he told her . . . like . . .  
You'll get the next one, okay?  
I will.  
But, she thought, he couldn't have been that conscious. He was a monster, after all . . . but . . . she saw a glint of something . . . human in that monster's eyes. When he stopped the blade, she knew he had regained control-  
-but she was too shocked to realize it, and when he cut the tentacle, she couldn't breathe for a second. When it snapped into his chest, the final blow, the final, killing blow, her heart broke into pieces. She watched him fly into the air, heard his ribs break, saw him transform back into the Steve Burnside she knew . . .  
"Good. I don't want you being sick on your vacation." He smiled, a real one. No forced smiles anymore . . . she knew when he faked it. Her hand went up and touched his cheek, and a smile also broke on her face.  
"Hey, hey, hey! No lovey-dovey stuff on the plane!"  
Claire looked back to the person talking to her, Chris. She had been searching for him, since way before Raccoon. He was caring, loyal, self- sacrificing . . . and an all-around great brother. She knew he knew about Leon and her. She also knew that he knew about Steve. But, he never approved of any guy she met. Leon was different from any other chain- smoking, weak-ass guys she had met before. He was wonderful . . . his looks, his personality . . . Ack! What am I thinking?! Leon's not my boyfriend! He's just a good pal I met in a very bad situation! No harm there, right? She looked nervously at him, but did her very best to hide it. "Hey, Leon . . . how'd you hold up when I got captured and taken to Rockfort?"  
His smile faded a bit, but he was still very happy, and his smile was still large enough for the both of them. "Oh, not much. I sooo wanted to go get you with Chris, but he told us not to. You know, 'Lone Ranger' shit. He's so stubborn sometimes!"  
"Hey, Leon, hello! I'm right behind you!" Chris broke out laughing, and shook his head. "Maybe I am stubborn, but who cares? Stubborn is good sometimes. Like . . . uhm . . . when . . . ah, shit. Wait, Claire's stubborn too! Can't blame me for bein' the only one around here like that!" He smiled wide, and waved his arms. "I'm not taking this! I'm going back to sleep!"  
Claire and Leon burst out laughing, looking at him like he just went crazy. "Hoo boy, Chris, you're completely right. We're sorry!" Claire raised and lowered her eyebrows, and Leon knew she was playing a trick. "We didn't mean any harm."  
"Really?" Chris's ears perked, and he looked at her.  
"Yeah, Chris . . . you ARE the most stubborn person in the world!"  
Leon laughed at this, and Claire joined again. Chris stared at her like she was crazy, but didn't take her seriously. He started to laugh too, and was patting Claire's back. "Nice, Claire. Nice."  
"Yo! Chris! Lighten up! I'm your sister, remember? I'm supposed to be messing with your head!" She crossed her eyes, and stuck out her tongue. "And there's nothing you can do about it!"  
  
Chris burst out laughing, and stuck his tongue out, too. They were acting like they were five year olds, for Christ's sake! Who cares? I'm finally reunited with my sister. I have the right. And he did. After all Umbrella had put them through, all that time they were apart, they definitely had the right to be happy and immature.  
For some reason, Leon wasn't laughing and having fun anymore. Chris looked to him, and he wore a concerned expression as he stared out the window. His head shook, and looked back to Chris, his eyes full of fear. Chris became alert, and looked to Claire, who was looking back. "What's up, Leon?"  
"I . . . I . . . just saw something out the window . . ." His voice was wavering, very weak. "It . . . it was a building. I read what was on it . . . and, we're landing on the runway down there."  
Chris was fully alert, waiting for him to say what it was. Leon just stared, his face frozen with fear. "C'mon, Leon, what was it?!"  
"It . . . said . . . Umbrella Corp. on the top . . ."  
Claire and Chris gasped at the same time, and both were completely frightened. They thought he was kidding for a second, but . . . the look on his face told otherwise. Leon . . . he was full of pure, unadulterated fear . . .  
"Leon . . . are you serious?" Claire was shaking a bit, too.but was keeping herself together fairly well. When he didn't answer, she looked out the window herself. Chris watches as her eyes widened, and filled with the same fear that Leon seemed to have. She slowly nudged herself back to her seat, and started to sweat.  
Goddamn! This can't be happening . . . not again! No, no, no! This is all wrong! How'd they . . . ? The plane bucking wildly interrupted Chris's thoughts. His seat flew up and down, and his seatbelt was worthless, tearing after the first two jolts. Grabbing on to the armrests, Chris flew with the plane, hopping up and down, just like Claire and Leon were.  
The plane plummeted, falling faster and faster, nobody on board. It was like they all just disappeared. Faster now, the clouds screaming by the window. Chris dared a look behind, and saw nothing . . . except one figure. He couldn't tell who it was . . . the flight attendant? Pilot? Then, a smell reached his nose. A familiar smell . . . a horrid smell. A smell of . . . decaying flesh. No, it couldn't be! A virus carrier? Then, he heard it. The sound . . . the horrible moan, the lifeless, droning moan. Then came the clacking and scraping of bone against bone, most of the cartilage worn away by the virus. The eyes . . . the glowing, horrible eyes were staring, right at them.  
Chris knew what he had to do. Protect Claire at all cost. But, just then, he heard a scream behind him, knowing that Claire had already spotted the rotting corpse. He had to protect the two, Leon and Claire; they just had to live . . . even if it meant his life. He got up from the seat, drawing the switchblade from his back pocket. But, on the next bob, the knife flew from his hand, over to the zombie, clattering hopelessly against the ground. 


	2. Run In With The Past He Never Knew

Chapter Two  
  
Claire had had enough of all this shit. Raccoon, Rockfort . . . ah, hell, this had just gone too far. That's why . . . that's why she had the pistol in a holster on her belt! After the two cities, Antarctica, Alexia and Alfred, blah, blah . . . she had bought a pistol. It wasn't the strongest weapon, only a Sig Sauer 226. But, at least it could stop something. Her hand went to her holster quickly, unlatching the button that held it closed. The heavy pistol slowly slid from its container, and into her experienced, but shaking hands.  
The shot rang loud and clear, and hit dead on. A hole appeared in the things forehead, and it slumped over, dead, bleeding dark, disgusting smelling fluid. The thud that came when it fell to the floor was sickening, but they had no time to think about it. The plane had almost reached the ground. Chris jumped for the cockpit, and grabbed the yoke. He pulled back on it, and it started to rise.  
Claire breathed a sigh of relief, until she saw that they were going too fast . . . too fast, and too low. Just like at Antarctica . . . just like with Steve, the plane landing, the freaky cross dresser named Alfred . . .  
The plane hit, and scraped against the pavement of the runway. The sound was deafening, making Claire, Chris, and Leon hold their hands to their ears. The plane spun, the scraping getting louder, the sound of the engines ripping from the side almost ear shattering . . .  
  
When Leon woke, he seemed to be held down, maybe by a piece of metal from the crash. But, when he looked around, he saw he was tied to a table with rope. He struggled a bit, but knew it worthless. Trying to appraise the situation from his current position, Leon found nothing more about his surroundings, except that he was in a dungeon, bricks making up the walls. The ceiling was not very high, and the room was lit with a few torches, all of which burned with a very soft light.  
A few footsteps fell from the direction of his feet. A man walked up next to him, a tall, red-haired, kind of young man. Leon couldn't see his eyes, but knew that the man was looking at him. The piercing stare . . . he looked like a man who had been through a lot of unnecessary pain. There was a pistol at his side, on a holster. It looked about the size of Claire's . . . might even have been hers.  
"Well, isn't this interesting? The famous Leon Kennedy . . . Claire has told me all about you. Every . . . little . . . detail. I know your strengths, weaknesses, personality traits . . . so don't try anything stupid, alright?" Leon had no freakin' idea who this son of a bitch was, but he was crazy, that's for sure.  
"You know Claire? Is she alright?" He was worried for her friend, wondering if this twit had taken her too. He would rip this guy to pieces if Claire wasn't safe. Something told him that this guy was bad news, but that can be naturally assumed by just listening to his voice.  
"Oh, I don't know. I didn't find her on the plane. She must have launched into the desert. I hope she's all right, though . . . " His voice became more maniacal, and Leon could make out a smile creeping across his face. "Because, you see, I still love her, like I did in Antarctica."  
Leon's eyes widened, and he gasped. He knew who this was . . . it was the guy that Claire escaped Rockfort with a year ago! The name didn't come to mind right away, but Claire told him that whatshisface was very helpful back then, thinking on his feet, solving puzzles, comforting Claire when she needed it . . . but, this couldn't be the same guy. This guy was the complete opposite of what Claire had described.  
"Hmm.I can tell by your reaction that you're . . . surprised? Heh . . . didn't expect ol' Steve Burnside to be here, did you? I didn't think so. I am so pleased to meet you, Mr. Kennedy. I've been waiting so long for this moment . . . and now, I'm gonna torture and kill you. When you die, Claire will be mine to love! Nothing for you . . . just like the rat you are. Worthless." 


	3. Time To Wake UP, DAMMIT!

Chapter Three  
  
"Awuu . . ." Chris's head hurt like hell, and he struggled to open his eyes. He wanted to get up, move on, get out of wherever they were . . . but, he had no idea where the location was. All he knew was that he was in the middle of the Nevada desert. With . . . Claire and Leon.  
Claire! The thought of her made him bolt up, disregard the pain. God damn, where the fuck is she?! His eyes darted left and right, searching the area. He couldn't make out much, a red haze blocking his view. The room was dark, only lit by a few . . . no, wait, they were outside, still on the runway . . . so why is it so dark? Oh, wait, duh, it's night, he thought.  
Claire rested about two feet from him, not unconscious, though. She was sleeping, obviously caring for his wounds. He looked down at her, his love for her growing tenfold. A bandage was on his arm, as was on hers. She was breathing lightly, carefree for the moment. Let her sleep, he thought . . . she deserves it.  
Next on his mind was . . . nothing, for a second. He blacked out, rested . . . beautiful sleep. The darkness engulfed him, taking the pain with it . . . until he was waking a few minutes later, after which he sat back up. Claire was awake, talking to him. She hugged him, but not too hard, as if knowing where he was hurt.  
"Oh, Claire . . . I thought I had lost you . . ." His eyes filled with tears, his arms gripping her close. There was no way that he would let her leave him again, at least while he was able. If he was unconscious, then he could do nothing. But, unless that happened . . .  
"Well, Chris, you haven't. I'm glad you're okay . . . did you see Leon?" Her eyes were concerned, both for him and Leon. The young man was her friend, of course, but it looked like she cared more for him than that. It was like they were in love, or something. That was probably it, but Claire wouldn't admit it. She wasn't that blunt. She always hinted toward feelings.  
"No, Claire, I'm sorry, I haven't seen him. I've been unconscious, if you couldn't tell . . ." He looked to her belt, to find her pistol missing. "Where'd your gun go?"  
Her eyes drifted down toward her belt, and she gasped, discovering it was missing. "Oh my god! I must have lost it in the wreck! Oh, god, now we're gonna die, aren't we, Chris? We're stuck in the desert! There's no ammo or anything like that for miles . . . so, we're screwed! Damn it!" A few tears fell from her eyes, and she sniffled.  
Chris couldn't stand her being sad, so he held her close. "Don't worry, Claire, we'll find something. We always do . . . or else we wouldn't have gotten this far." A smile crept along his face, and he saw her smirk too, laughing a little.  
"That's true, Chris. But, we still need to find Leon." Her mood fell, and she cried again. Chris held her tighter, and she gripped him close for comfort. The closeness to his sister was nice, the love flowing between them . . . until Chris pulled away, determined to get the hell out of there as fast as possible.  
  
Steve walked over to the side of the table that Leon was strapped to, but looked the other way, at a console of some sort. Monitors upon monitors were stacked on each other, all of them glowing. It was a crude Security Console, but it worked. Damned CR-125's . . . can't do crap. But, he fixed them so that he could see the entire facility, the virus carriers, the Hunters, Tyrants, all that . . .  
"So, Steve, what do you plan to do? I mean, you gotta want to do something here . . ." Steve turned toward Leon, entirely pissed at his constant rambling. The guy might be useful for info, but he was as annoying as hell. "Well? I wanna know!"  
"Shut up, you bastard! I'm not telling you yet! Now, lessee . . . I've got them on the monitor . . . Claire and Chris are both here. That's good . . ." Turning to Leon, he pulled a syringe out of nowhere. "Time for you to feel the pain I have before . . ." 


	4. ANOTHER Psycho?

Chapter Four  
  
"Hey, Chris . . ." Claire and he were half-limping along the runway, to the nearest building. Not the best idea, but at least it was an idea. No more of that 'helpless girl' crap she had done before, when Chris finally got up. She'd gotten some courage from being with Chris, and had a set determination now to find Leon.  
  
"Yeah, Claire?"  
  
"Uhm . . . I don't think it's the best idea to just waltz into the facility. I mean, the plane crashed, just like in Antarctica. With Steve and me. And that was when Alfred controlled the plane. I know, that sounds farfetched, but just hear me out. The plane locked controls, and Alfie's face popped up on a monitor. He had a control-lookin' thingy. I had no idea what it was . . . but prob'ly what I just said. A control. Could have been the same thing . . ."  
  
She hung her head low, and stared at the ground. Such a stupid idea, it was. That couldn't happen twice, not to her. I mean, she thought, how could the same thing happen twice? Is there another maniac trying to kill them? More Alfreds? Alexias? If not then what the fuck is going on here?!  
  
"Well, Claire, I don't think it's the same, but you're right. It could be a repeat. That'd be half impossible, but it's worth a thought." He held her hand, in a brotherly love way, and she smiled a little. "Seriously, Claire, if anyone DID do this to us, I'll kill 'em. I'm serious."  
  
She couldn't help but laugh at that, even though the thought of death scared her. Chris always knew he could make her laugh, and she couldn't stop. Like with Steve . . . his expression, her hysteria . . . damn, gotta keep one track of thought!  
  
"Well, if you do," she choked out, still trying to control her laughs, "then save some for me. I don't wanna be left out of the fun, 'kay? Wait, what am I saying? Do it yourself! I am not a killer!" Her smile faded, and she stared at Chris. He'll do it, I know, she thought. I don't wanna be around when it happens, either.  
  
"Okay, okay . . . first, we gotta find out who the shit is." Claire noticed that Chris now thought more of the idea. Finally, a good idea from her! Thinking was her good part, but Chris knew how to get out of most situations. She had only survived Raccoon and Rockfort with partners, never going it alone, except for five minutes or so. Steve had even had to save her from that BOW . . .  
  
Her train of thought was cut off by a moving red dot. They were ten or so yards from the closest building, no one on top or bottom, though it was dark. Hard to see anything in this shit. She shoved into Chris without thinking, the bullet ripping a hole in the ground a few inches from where they stood, kicking up Nevada dust. They rolled, and Claire bolted, holding Chris's wrist, tugging him at full speed. The facility was five yards, four, three, two . . .  
  
Another shot rang out, and Claire fell. Her leg hurt like hell, and she knew why. She had been hit. But, she bolted up, and limped to the door. She knew if she didn't keep moving, that she'd be dead in five seconds. The door was rusted, almost as if the virus had corroded it. Her hand tried the knob, to no success. Chris tugged her along, and dragged her to a doorway, the door blasted out.  
  
They practically leapt through it. Chris turned, and put a huge board in front of the door, blocking it. The room they were in was dimly lit, but from what she could see, Claire made out a few features. She saw a desk, a crude chair, a few pens sprawled on the floor from a cup labeled 'World's best Dad', a few posters, research papers, and a blueprint, half hanging from the table. She tried to get up to get it, but stumbled, her leg still burning like hell.  
  
Chris saw her, and rushed over. He pulled a MedKit, which he brought always, just in case. Pulling out a pair of tweezers and a syringe, he sighed. "You always get yourself into trouble, Claire." She smiled, and he slammed the syringe into her leg, first making it hurt like hell, then numbing it all together. Her eyelids started to close, the feeling of tiredness slowly engulfing her. She tried to stay conscious, to stay with Chris, to keep aware . . . but she lost that battle, and fell asleep, Chris working on her leg as she dreamt about the zombies, Alfred, Chief Irons, Alexia, and Steve . . . 


	5. The Virus's Effect

Chapter Five  
  
The needle slowly slid under his skin, making him cry out in both pain and surprise. It seemed that Steve had beaten him up, or kept him in horrid condition after the crash. Leon couldn't decide, so he just let Steve do what he wanted. Whatever it was, it couldn't be any worse than what he had been through already. Claire and Chris were out of his line of sight, anyway, so . . .  
Just then, a searing, indescribable pain shot through his body. It was as if someone had stabbed him with a million knives in a million places at the same time, times a thousand. His eyes closed, his mind trying to cope with and cut off the pain, which it naturally tried to do in any injury. But, it was to no avail . . . the pain got through, and he screamed, a natural reaction. A sweat broke out on his face, and a tear came from his eye.  
"Well . . . seems you aren't that strong after all, Leon. You know, I'm gonna make you a deal. Hmm . . . rather, make your friends a deal. If Claire stays with me, then they'll get the vaccine to this virus. I only got the vaccine from someone named . . . what was it . . . oh, yeah, Mary Ashford. Created the U-Virus. The stuff in your blood, the stuff that was in mine." Steve explained everything.  
"Well, you can burn in hell, because . . . Claire and Chris are too close for that . . . they wouldn't give their lives for me. And I am glad they wouldn't. I'm not worth it." His voice sounded strained, beads of sweat dripping onto his face and neck. His teeth were mashing together as he talked, his eyes blinking open and closed, the pain slowly taking effect, his mind failing him, almost knocking him out.  
"If what you say is true . . . then you're going to kill them, you little asshole! That's exactly what this stuff does. Turns you against friends and loved ones." Steve's fist slammed down next to Leon's head, making his mind hurt more. He had a massive headache from the injection, and trying to comprehend everything, along with the pressure that seemed to want to make his mind pop out of his head.  
"I . . . I won't . . . I can't . . . you can't make me!" Leon's mind gave, his body going limp. He could still feel his entire body, which hurt as much as it did two minutes ago. His . . . body, his muscles, they felt like . . . they were changing, becoming larger. Now he had a sudden urge to kill, it rising in him . . . no, rising in it.  
  
"Claire! Talk to me!" Chris was worried, his voice loud, his eyes searching for any sign of movement on his sister. She had been shot in the leg. Must have hurt like hell . . . Chris had been shot before. But, she wasn't used to it. Being shot sucked, and he didn't want his sister to feel the pain.  
"Yeah, Chris, I'm here. What do you want?" Her voice sounded agitated, but still weak. No reason to snap back. She wasn't in the condition to argue. She just hurt like hell, probably. Her leg had been shot, but he bandaged that up pretty well, though he had not a clue on how to do any of this med shit.  
Chris sighed, relieved. His hand went to hers, and held it. Smiling, he got up, looking around. "Nothing, Claire . . ."  
"Okay, whatever. We're still in Nevada, huh?" Her eyes were searching her surroundings, but she already knew where she was, and whom she was with.  
"Yeah. Sucks, doesn't it? I mean, god DAMN, Claire. Though, while you were knocked out, I searched the desks, and found a few things. This is the Central Facility for Umbrella's operations! This is where the T-, G- , and another kind of virus was made, named the U-Virus. I have no idea what it is made up of, but it is was caused Steve to . . . you know . . ."  
"Chris!" Claire bolted up, and he expected to get smacked for bringing it up. But, she seemed surprised, mostly. "You mean, you know what the virus is that made him like that? That virus the bitch Alexia used?! Holy shit . . ."  
Chris smiled, and pulled out three vials. Each was a different color, and had a different labeling. One said T-Virus, one said G-Virus, and one said U-Virus. Claire recoiled when she saw the vials, but Chris laughed.  
"Claire! These are . . . these are vaccines! I mean, god, I found them lying inside the top drawer. They will destroy the virus in anyone that has it, so we can use it to help some people out back here! You know, that kind of stuff. We won't have to kill everyone . . . we could save at least one person. Two, if we're lucky."  
All Claire could do was cry into Chris's shoulder, only tears of joy, that they could save someone, instead of take away their horrible lives. 


	6. Hope Comes in Mysterious Ways

Chapter Six  
  
It searched the grounds, its huge feet slamming against the ground as it ran, its muscular legs making it go ever faster. Orders not to kill Dr. Redfield, but it didn't understand orders, not anymore. Chris had ordered him around, his voice still throbbing in the thing that had once been Leon Kennedy's head. No more. When it ran into the little fucker, it'd kill him, but tear his limbs off first.  
Steve had been nice enough to give it a huge Halberd, a large staff of amazing length and power. It could control it easily, but ignored it at the moment, letting the spear drag on the ground. The large spear kicked up lots of sparks, catching a few things in the now-narrow hallway. Flames shot from dying plants, carpet, and a few paintings behind him, but he paid them no heed; he finally had the power to kill Chris, and would use it to the fullest.  
  
Dr. Redfield crouched, not expecting anything to walk away from that wreck, even though Captain Steve had pulled a man from it. He heard that the wonderful Captain had recruited others than himself and Dr. Ashford, but didn't care. Right now, he was alone, the Remington tight in his grip.  
He noticed the first figure walking towards the facility, limping, actually. A young girl, her reddish hair tied in a ponytail, her green eyes wide with fear, but determination. Determination to do what, he had no clue. But, she'd do it. She looked vaguely familiar, but he dismissed the thought immediately.  
He saw a second figure, but couldn't make out the face. Aw, hell, who cares who it is? Redfield raised the rifle, the red laser dot slowly edging up beside the girl. All he could see was her foot, and it moved out of the way.  
She saw the sight.  
He fired, trying to at least catch her calf, but missed completely, kicking up dust. He rapidly searched for the two, and flipped off the laser. He found the girl's leg, and fired again, slowing her down. The larger figure kneeled down next to her. He targeted the figure in the head, seeing the face-  
-and saw the face of himself, at a younger age. The set features, the intense, brown eyes, the youthfulness dripping from his entire body, his build, the military haircut, the S.T.A.R.S. uniform . . . this had to be the son that his wife, Alyssa, had told him about. Chris, that was his name. He had probably shot his own daughter, Claire.  
God damn . . . what have I done? He unsighted the rifle, setting it next to him, crying. He had almost killed his own daughter and son, thinking them none better then spies from Umbrella, or a cleanup crew, or Wesker . . . he had heard too much about Albert Wesker to consider anything nice about him. And he thought his own children at those levels.  
I'm horrible.  
  
Claire got up, all of her tears cried out, her emotions spent, her eyes red from the session she just had. Her hand extended to Chris, to help him up. Pocketing the vials, he took her hand, and she helped him up. Relief flushed over her, that they wouldn't be limited to shooting defenseless people-  
-not entirely-  
-but, she didn't care now, not for anything but her brother, and Leon. Chris took her in an embrace, and she hugged him close and tight. They didn't let go for a bit, content to be held, a vision of her past catching her . . .  
-and she jumped from the plane-  
-and landed in Steve's arms, who caught her, but fell over with an "oomph" sound.  
"Nice catch." She smiled at him.  
"Aww, 't'warn't nothin'." He smiled back, and they both lay there for a bit, both content to be held . . . until Claire got up first, brushing herself off.  
"We'd better . . ."  
The words were repeated in her throat, in real life, not in fantasy.  
" . . . find out where we are." Chris leaned back, and looked around the room.  
Claire did the same, and saw what he saw. A dark, damp room, nothing special about it, a corridor on the east wall, though. She'd have to note that. Besides the door with the wood on it that Chris put there, that was the way into the facility. The walls had rust down them, the water that formed it already evaporated. A film of slime was on the west wall, which made Claire a bit sick. The ceiling was old, made of metal. Had the same rust, the same film, but it didn't seem like it would drip onto her.  
The room reeked of rotting flesh, like a virus-carrier had recently been in here. Also, she smelled smoke, as if a fire was happening within the facility, but far away. A desk sat in the middle, some of the wood scratched away by claws . . . very inhuman. Like . . . that thing on the plane. The desk had nothing on it except some papers, and a very old Apple computer, like back-in-the-'80s computer. She noticed something red blink on the north wall, repeated rapidly, like on a camera . . .  
"Chris, we're being watched." Her hand pointed at the large, black, dusty camera. It seemed to be as old as the computer, if not older, also not cleaned in the same amount of time. But, someone was using it right now, watching them, monitoring their movements. It was like Rockfort, knowing someone was watching you, but not knowing who. Or what.  
"We'd better get moving anyway." Chris stood up, and walked toward the entrance. He checked the two open drawers again, making Claire assume the other two were locked. His boots clacked against the ground, and two items fell from his back pocket. Two or three, he couldn't tell. They looked like lock picks, the ones that Jill had showed her when they met up in Raccoon, behind Chris's back.  
Slowly, Claire moved over to the spot with the two items, and picked them up. She walked over to the desk, and sure enough, the lower cabinets were locked. She shoved one of the slender metal objects in, letting it rest in the keyhole. The other one she placed in more carefully, and slowly jiggled it. An audible 'click' came from the cabinet, and she dropped the picks. She knew that Jill had taught her something, but didn't know she gave her this much . . .  
Inside the cabinet was the best thing she could find in this situation - a weapon. It was a Walther P99, a beautiful gun. She took it up in her hands, also taking three clips up with it, because it was contained in a gun-belt. She didn't know exactly how many shots each clip contained, but knew the gun type from Barry, who had told her about some kick-ass guns from different movies and stuff. Her search of the other cabinet showed no prize, but, now that she had her gun, she was glad. Her hope grew, now that they had a chance. 


	7. Time to Head Out

Chapter Seven  
  
Chris turned at the sound of Claire calling out to him, hoping she wasn't caught in a trap. Though, in this room, it'd be pretty hard to fit a trap. His hopes were realized, and he saw something that gave him great confidence. She was holding the two lock picks that Jill had given to him, through Claire. But, the other thing, the gun belt, the 16-shot P99 gun, with three clips, was the thing that flooded him with relief. It was a welcome item, because a gun was very useful in these situations. Probably some Bond wannabe, judging from the type. If they ran out of vaccine, then the gun could work as well.  
"Claire, you just found us a lifesaver!" He smiled along with her, and she attached the belt to her waist, disposing of the other, empty gun belt she had. She stood, and laughed. Not the time for hysteria, but Chris couldn't help himself, either. The finally stood a chance . . . except there was still that psycho with the rifle running around. They might be able to stand a chance against him, if they could get a train on him.  
"Chris, do you mind if I keep the gun? I mean, I know you're a good shot and stuff, but I'd feel more confident with it. Wouldn't break down as easy with it, you know?" He nodded, glad that his sister had something to place some kind of hope on. She was also a decent shot. Not that she could hit a target fifty yards away with a PPK/S like he could, but good, nonetheless. These situations also brought out the toughest in people, so she'd be a good protector. But, if they split up for a puzzle, then . . . he'd take the gun. She's able to solve puzzles faster, and he needed all the help he could get.  
Suddenly, a thought flashed through his head. His hand shot to his back, and he reached deep into his S.T.A.R.S. backpack. Why he was wearing his uniform, he only knew that Claire had suggested he wear it. When he removed his hand from it, he pulled out a standard S.T.A.R.S. issue Beretta, with a full clip. It was also attached to a belt, and had three clips along with it. More confidence, more help. They needed all the help they could get.  
  
Steve watched Leon run through the halls of the mansion, which was a complete replica of the Spencer mansion. Steve had grown up there, living happily. Until the spill, that is. Conducting some of the experiments that the scientists wanted him to, he had fun. Watching all of those animals slowly decaying, dying, it filled him with a sort of . . . power. He felt power, and he always wanted more of it.  
Shaking the thought, he watched as the monstrosity raged through the mansion, setting fire to everything that was in its path. It seemed completely pissed off, and for good reason. Won't kill me, thought Steve. I programmed it to kill the Redfields . . . aww, shit, it's going to go after Mark. Oh, well, Dr. Ashford and I can run this operation by ourselves.  
His gaze switched to another monitor, which was in the hallway leading to the underground building. Claire and Chris were walking down, with two guns on their belts . . . ah, shit! That's not good. His plans were going to be ruined! God damn it . . . unless . . . unless Leon gets to them. They won't be able to kill it with bullets. They'd need a vaccine or something, which he knew that only he had-  
-except Wesker told him that he shouldn't assume anything-  
-but what did he know? When Wesker flew back, taking Steve to the labs, fixing him up, he explained some survival tactics. 'Don't assume anything. Keep your eyes open.' Yadda, yadda, yadda. He didn't need to keep guard. Since they gave him the same treatment as Wesker, he knew that he could take anything on.  
But, still, his own eyes creeped him out a little. The cat-like, glowing, bluish eyes. They were haunting, but could scare the shit out of anyone that he encountered. That's why he wore sunglasses. Not right to scare them at an inopportune time. When he ran into Claire, they'd embrace, say how much they missed each other, kiss maybe, even . . . .  
Well, until then, he'd just have to watch, wait until Leon came, wait for his chance to save her. He'd change Leon back, of course, to let Claire watch him suffer, so that she had to go to him, cry on his shoulder, though this time, he wouldn't be the victim. Steve, he'd just put his arm around her, kiss her deeply, and if she resisted, he'd smack her good. Taking out Chris would be simple, even easier than killing off Captain Albert Wesker, who used to be a S.T.A.R.S. member. He'd gone down so easily in Steve's hands, he was so strong . . . . 


	8. MedKits Aplenty

Chapter Eight

            Chris led the way down the corridor, which happened to lead into a stairwell.  His Beretta drawn, he stepped into the dark, damp lower level first, Claire close behind, her breath literally warming his neck.  When they reached the level labeled "Basement Level 1", the familiar chill of the Umbrella facilities washed over them.  He could feel Claire shiver behind him, holding one back himself.  This was all bullshit, all this coldness, the virus . . . and this was just a side effect of the goddamn thing, all these zombies.  I mean, Chris thought, damn . . . who thought a virus made for making horrible creatures, all the BOWs, would turn people – actual people – into the walking goddamn dead?  Just as the thought passed, Chris heard footsteps.  They were slow, but were definitely human, the clack-clack of expensive dress shoes ringing out, breaking the silence of the underground.

            Chris motioned for Claire to get behind him, even though she had a weapon.  At least if this was some maniac – like Wesker - then at least Claire'd be able to take the rear if Chris fell.  He motioned for her to get her gun ready, and he heard her pistol slide out of its holster, her flipping the safety off, and he did the same.  Raising the weapon, Chris took two steps forward, letting his hand scrape against the wall of the room, trying to find a light switch.

            Fat chance.

            Chris gave up on rubbing the wall with his hand, most likely to find a switch.  He pulled a mini-flashlight out of his pocket.  He pushed the button on the back, and a small, low-powered beam of light shed from it.  The beam scanned the room as he moved his hand, and Claire saw someone walking up the corridor.  When Chris trained the flashlight on the figure, she gasped.  It couldn't be.  Not . . . but it was.  His craggy, wrinkled face, the sly smiled, the trench coat . . . 

            "Trent."

            The S.T.A.R.S. informant, the only link to White Umbrella that they could trust, if not the whole way.  He had given the map to Jill, the co-ordinates to Brad Vickers, the chartered plane to Utah for Rebecca and Claire . . . .

            Chris rushed him, and shoved the gun into his face.  The man just kept his cool demeanor, but Chris saw a flicker of fear in his eyes.  Point for him.  But Trent kept quiet, trying his best to conceal his fear from Chris.  This bullshit had gone on long enough.  Time, once and for all, to get all the information he needed from this little prick, and get it fast.  He set Trent down, but kept his gun on him.

            "So you're Trent.  You little fuck, this is . . . you're . . . this isn't your fault, is it?"

            "No, Mr. Redfield."  Trent seemed as if nothing mattered, that there hadn't been a spill.  He spoke as if a meeting had been missed, or a company had lost a few thou.

            "Trent, what the fuck is going on here?!  Why is there any virus at all?!  And . . ."  Chris pulled a file from his pack, the manila reflecting the little light fairly well.  "Who is . . . Alice?  Rain Ocampo?  Matt Adison?  Who are these people?"

            "Sit down, Mr. Redfield, and I shall explain."  He motioned towards a chair, and didn't regain eye contact with Chris.  Following his gaze, he saw Trent was looking at the frightened Claire, who looked like she was about to leap out and kill Trent.

            Albert Wesker had been screwed over, a million times.  Only a few mil, maybe nine hundred thou at the least.  He was assigned to the job of training the little prick.  Steve, the fucker from Antarctica, was the last person he wanted to have the same repair-job that Wesker himself had.  His eyes were an eerie blue, which scared the hell out of Wesker more than his own eyes, the yellow, cat-like eyes.

            He shook off that thought.

            Wherever that ass was, he had left Wesker to die.  They had fought, just because Steve had gotten pissed that Wesker was proven to be stronger.  After that, all he remembered was a brick slamming into the back of his head, and a shot into his stomach.

            _Reminder, Wesker!  Get up!_

            The pain shot up through his body as he remembered the shot, his falling to the ground.  He had been lying a while; his body was surrounded with his own blood.  Burnside was going to pay for his backstabbing, and pay good.

            _Now, how to get out of Cali?_

            They had been at the California facility, and were enjoying everything there:  The targets, the beaches, the cars, and the babes.  Yeah, the babes were good.  Just get a good face on, and you can fuck 'em all night long.  And the day later, just fuck 'em again.  He remembered his first one.  She was a virgin, but hell, she was great . . .

            _Stop that!_  He snapped himself out of the stupor, and got up slowly, gritting his teeth.  Looking around, he found a MedKit.  Stupid Burnside.  He was not the smartest, nor the fastest.  And this proved it.  He left a damn MedKit on the table next to Wesker, leaving him opportunity to heal his wounds.

            _Alrighty then.  Don't give a fuck about his mistakes, just take the opportunity.  _He took the MedKit, and looked through it.  He found a syringe, a few bottles, a lot of gauze, and tweezers.  This was creepy; the stuff was everything he needed for his injury, nothing more or less.

            _Fuck it.  It's a miracle.  Don't complain._  He took out the syringe, and injected himself with the first local anesthetic.


End file.
